Page 131 of The Book Club Boyfriend
“I thought it was book mail!”
A second later, she appears in the doorway—hair wild, wearing one of my T-shirts and her pink slippers. She looks like chaos. She looks like home.
She peeks at the pan and winces. “Is that… carbon?”
“It was supposed to be breakfast.”
“It looks like a crime scene.”
I drop the spatula with a sigh. “You married me for my charm, not my culinary prowess.”
She grins and walks over, wrapping her arms around my waist. “Good thing you’re pretty.”
We kiss, and it’s easy and familiar. Rip groans from the floor as if we’re embarrassing him again.
We honeymooned in Thailand.
We hosted our families for Thanksgiving, and no one yelled.
We made it through late nights, deadlines, road trips, sick days, and three lost socks to Rip’s endless appetite.
And somehow, every version of us survived.
She slides her arms around my waist, resting her cheek against my chest.
“I like this,” she says.
“What, my culinary downfall?”
“This,” she murmurs, pressing closer.
I press a kiss to the top of her head. “I like it too.”
And I do. More than I ever thought I could. Not just the big moments—though those have been good—but this.
Us.
She rests her cheek against my chest. “Can you believe it’s been a year?”
“Depends,” I say. “Are we counting the month when you considered divorcing me over the dog calendar?”
She gives me a look. “It was haunted, Chase.”
“It was golden retrievers in Halloween costumes.”
“The eyesfollowedme.”
I shake my head, grinning. “Fine. But maybe you overreacted.”
She snorts and pulls back to look up at me. “Okay, fine. Maybe I overreacted.”
I raise a brow. “And maybe I undercooked our first Thanksgiving turkey by—”
“Three hours,” she finishes, smirking. “The fire alarm’s still emotionally traumatized.”
We both laugh, and it’s the kind of laugh that carries a hundred tiny memories behind it.
She grabs her coffee off the counter, takes a sip, and says, “You know… one year ago today, we were in Thailand.”
